A Certain High
by elfin
Tom Barnaby's body woke to delicious aches he hadn't felt in
years. The pleasure of those aches overwhelmed the slight twinge
of guilt. He'd been with a man and the feeling was so natural, so
primal, that it was a few happy moments before his brain woke and
started asking questions.
'Who?' was the first one and fairly obvious one.
Tom tightened his arm wrapped around the very male body spooned against
his front. Then he opened his eyes. The dark head inches in
front of his nose was very familiar.
"Oh, shit."
At the same time Gavin Troy woke, realised that he wasn't alone and
struggled to release himself from his lover's embrace.
Startled, Tom let him go, watching as the wonderfully naked man hoisted
himself up and turned to stare at him in absolute horror.
~
the early hours
They were high on triumph when they left Hector Bridges' mansion.
Tom had taken on two ex-army generals and three truckloads of squadies
and had won.
Watching the man in action had been a real eye-opener for Troy.
Another brick in the wall of his education, as Barnaby had said
earlier. A whole row of bricks in his opinion. He'd never
been so pleased or proud to call Tom Barnaby his boss.
"I'd take you for a drink, Troy," Tom told him, wide awake despite it
just having gone three am, "but I doubt we'd find a pub open and if we
did we'd have to nick the landlord."
Troy glanced across at the older man. They'd had the thrill
without the chase and the adrenaline was still coursing through his
blood stream.
"I have an unopened bottle of 18 year old Glenlivit," he announced
bravely.
Tom turned in the driver's seat, bestowing an open smile on his young
sergeant. "Are you sure?"
He wasn't asking for clarification about the whiskey, Troy knew, but
anything else seemed too far for them to get in a scant few hours.
He nodded. "Of course."
It wasn't far back to Causton with Tom driving and the winding country
roads were deserted.
Troy lived in a ground floor flat in a barn conversion to the south of
the town centre. The only other time Tom had been there it had
closely resembled a bombsite and he'd wrongly assumed Troy had hosted a
party the night before.
It was only later he'd realised that the only reason his own house
wasn't in the same state was Joyce. The hours they worked, who
had time to clean?
This morning, however, the place was almost immaculate. Tom was
astounded. Even the kitchen was clean and had a vague scent of
oranges about it.
"I hired a cleaner," Troy told him by way of an explanation. "Two
hours a week, Tuesdays and Fridays."
"Excellent idea." Whoever she was, she was a miracle worker as
far as Tom was concerned.
Troy grabbed two fake crystal tumblers that he'd got free with several
hundred litres of petrol and took the bottle, still boxed, out of a
cupboard, shooing Tom through into the lounge.
"Who gave you this?" Tom asked as they sat down on the
couch. He instantly regretted the inquisition-like tone in his
own voice and winced. "If you don't mind me asking," he added
hastily.
Troy had either missed the aborted interrogation or was ignoring
it. "Cully," he replied happily. "For my birthday last
year."
Tom tried to remember any sort of celebration and couldn't. "I'm
sorry I missed it."
"That's okay, Sir, Cully took me out to dinner...." But he
trailed off.
The formal address could so easily have killed the mood, stilled the
faint stirrings of a seduction. But Barnaby put the heavy box
down and reached to take the glasses from him, brushing his fingers
over Troy's deliberately as he did.
"Call me 'Tom'," he instructed softly.
Troy swallowed and nodded. He opened the box and pulled out the
bottle.
For the next hour or so they made their way slowly through several
measures of the smooth drink, conversation flowing more easily with
each glass.
Tom asked about Troy's background and life, realising he knew very
little about his sergeant.
Troy asked Tom about his early career, what he'd done, where he'd been
before Midsomer.
Emptying his glass for the fourth or fifth time, Troy sat forward,
reaching for the bottle.
Tom reached out too, sliding his hand deliberately around the back of
Troy's neck.
Instead of picking up the bottle, Troy put down his glass and turned
into the touch.
For a thudding heartbeat the only connection was the slow stroke of
Tom's thumb through the cropped hairs at the base of Troy's
scalp.
Then Tom put a little pressure into his touch and Troy followed it,
leaning forward into an initially chaste kiss. But not for
long. Tom parted his lips, ran the tip of his tongue along the
line of Troy's mouth before it opened and he was welcomed into the
warm, moist heat.
Stretching his arm down over the side of the sofa, Tom dropped his
glass to the carpet, running his now free hand over Troy's where it was
spread on cushion next to his leg, continuing up the taut arm to one
narrow, slim shoulder.
Troy sucked hungrily on his tongue as a precursor to sliding his own
into Tom's mouth, humming in appreciation of Tom's hand now sliding
under his sweater.
Sweeping over the flat belly, Tom followed the curves of Troy's ribs,
crossing to tease fingertips over the hard nubs of his nipples.
He smiled into the kiss, brushing the backs of his fingers down again
over smooth, tight flesh until a denim waistband stopped his progress.
Troy gasped, almost biting Tom's tongue, when a hard thumb traced its
way up along his confined erection through his jeans. He groaned
into Tom's mouth, pushing his hips forward against the determined
caress. For once he wished he were wearing his suit, the touch
would be so much more defined through the soft material. He
wondered what it would take to get his boss - his lover - to unzip his
fly and to hold him, skin to skin.
Finally breaking the kiss, desperate for air, Troy sat up
slightly. He leaned all his weight on one arm, summoning up the
courage to undo the buttons of Tom's light blue shirt.
Encouraged by the older man's light shiver, he stole another, quicker
kiss before trailing his mouth over the stubbled jaw, lapping at the
hollow of Tom's throat and licking a long, winding path down to Tom's
nipples.
First one then the other, lathered, suckled, nipped then soothed in a
unfaltering pattern that finally had Tom moaning Troy's name over and
over.
Emboldened, Troy shifted his weight and used both hands to unfasten
Tom's fly. Assisted by Tom's wriggling, he got the jeans and
underwear, moving to sit on the carpet between Tom's knees and smiling
into the sparkling blue eyes he lowered his mouth over the thick
erection.
"Oh, God, Gavin...."
Tom lay his hand on Troy's head, exerting no pressure at all just
wanting to touch, to play the soft hair through his fingers as the
young man's mouth took him quickly to a shuddering climax.
As soon as he could move Tom leaned forward, blindly searching out
Troy's skilled mouth with his own, tasting himself on Troy's tongue,
teeth and palette. He wrapped one arm around his lover's waist
and rose them both to their feet, grasping Troy's sweater at the base
as they went, breaking the kiss long enough to get the cloth over the
ducked head.
"Where's the bedroom?" he asked softly.
Troy stepped back and took Tom's hand, leading the way with a knowing
smile.
This room too was clean and tidy. The pine-framed double bed
wasn't made, but Troy soon straightened the duvet out, stepping back
into the circle of Tom's arms for a long, deep kiss.
Tom unzipped his lover's fly, unfastening the button, sliding his hands
into the back of them to ease them down over Troy's round bum and
narrow hips until he could step out of them. Then, with a gentle
push, he dropped Troy on to the bed.
Scooting back, Troy watched Tom with hungry eyes when he settled next
to him.
Leaning up on one elbow, Tom brushed his hand over Troy's thigh,
feigning a lazy carelessness. He tongued circles around one
nipple at the same time he cupped heavy, tight balls in the palm of his
hand.
Troy moaned softly, closing his eyes, pressing his head back into the
mattress.
"You're going to come for me," Tom murmured, "the way I've imagined you
coming for me so many times."
Troy's eyes snapped open just for a moment but when his dick was taken
in a firm grip he lost the ability to talk.
Tom's grasp was perfect, tight in all the right places, taking him in
long, slow thrusts; bunched fist pressing into his balls on the down
stroke, pulling him taut on the up stroke. He strove to reach
orgasm, the speed of Tom's ministrations never changing, keeping the
agonisingly slow rhythm.
Troy reached out, wanting to touch his lover. Tom took his hand
and kissed his fingers, watching the young face contorted in desire and
desperate need.
"Come on, Gavin," he whispered roughly. "I want this from
you. I want to see you...."
Troy came hard, pushing up through Tom's fingers, ribbons of salty
fluid covering Tom's hand and his own thighs and belly. He cried
out as he came, Tom's name on his lips, his eyes wide open.
They manoeuvred themselves the right way round some time later and
climbed under the duvet, Troy snuggling back into Tom's welcoming
arms. He was held with a reverence he'd never known, and he knew
that for all the lonely nights to come, this would be the thing he'd
think back on most of all.
"Gavin," Tom spoke quietly, kissing the back of his neck, "more than
anything, I want to make love to you, be inside you." Although he
didn't see the uncertainly flit briefly across Troy's face, he knew it
was there and knew he was right in the assumption he'd made. "But
you're a virgin as far as that goes and I want it to be right for you
the first time."
Troy reached up and back, smoothed his hand awkwardly over Tom's
hair. "You would be right."
Tom smiled to himself, touched. "If you'll have me...."
Finding Tom's hand, holding it in both of his own against his chest,
Troy whispered, "You mean... we can do this again?"
"If you want to, I would love to."
Troy nodded certainly and fell asleep contented and happy.
~
that same morning
The expression of horror on Troy's face was the last thing Tom had ever
wanted to see there.
Reaching for his young lover, ignoring his protests, Tom wrapped an arm
around his waist and pulled him down, settling them both back under the
duvet.
"Oh, no you don't," he murmured into the messy dark hair, and so Troy
lay stiff in his arms. "We both wanted this, Gavin, we're not
going to lie to each other."
"But... Sir...."
Tom laughed, rubbing his hand down Troy's spine to the gentle swell of
his buttocks. "I don't think 'Sir' is appropriate at this
juncture."
Another couple of seconds and Troy relaxed, wrapping himself more
deliberately around his older lover.
"Can we really have this?" he asked apprehensively.
"Of course we can, we just have to be careful, that's all."
"What about...." He was interrupted by the chirpy ring of a
mobile phone.
"That's mine." Tom cast his eyes about the few clothes lying on
the floor of the room. "I have no idea where my jacket or
trousers are." He released Troy this time and let him climb over
him and out of bed.
"Lounge," he called back as he padded through the open door.
Tom admired the offered view, the tight round bum as Troy left the
room, the slim, muscled thighs, heavy balls and dark, tempting crack as
he bent down to take Tom's mobile from the pocket of his jeans.
And finally the semi-erect dick, slim body and overall loved look as
Troy brought the phone to him, still ringing.
As he answered it, Troy knelt up on the edge of the bed and Tom rested
his free hand on a lightly haired leg.
"Barnaby.... Hello, Love.... I'm sorry, it was really late
and we were both wide awake after seeing off Hector and co....
No, no, I'm at Gavin's. We shared a particularly fine whiskey and
he generously let me use his bed.... I'm sure the couch was more
than comfortable! I'm the old man here! .... No, don't
worry. I'll wake him with a coffee and come straight
home.... Okay. Bye, Love."
He snapped the phone shut and threw it lightly down onto the carpet.
"Want me to put the kettle on?" Troy asked, partly teasing, partly
unsure.
Tom reached for him. "No. I want you to come down here and
let me at that gorgeous body of yours."
elfin
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